editing the Book
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Anthology of Charmed fics.  All stand alone; each has separate ratings and warnings.  Mostly unchanged future or AU, some Halliwellcest. Chris-focused.
1. all I ever wanted

Each of these will stand alone. Separate warnings and ratings.

* * *

><p><strong>Title<strong>: all I ever wanted (and more)

**Disclaimer**: the kids are mine

**Warnings**: changed future!fic

**Pairings**: Chris/Bianca

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 160

**Point****of****view**: third

**Prompt**: Charmed, Chris, kids of his own make him appreciate his mother's patience.

* * *

><p>When Pippa and Matty's game of orb-and-seek ends up on the Golden Gate Bridge, Chris hangs onto his temper with clenched fingers and tersely orders them to their rooms. They're too young to understand that he's more terrified than angry, and he finally gets <em>exactly<em> why Mom used to have furtive talks with the aunts about binding all of the next generation's powers.

"Breathe, babe," Bianca says, leaning into him. "You found them. They're not hurt. They won't do it again for at least a day."

"A day," Chris laughs, almost hysterically. "Shit."

Bianca smiles, pressing a quick kiss to his nose. "C'mon, Chris. Your turn to feed the munchkin. I'll go explain to the terrible two why Daddy freaked out all over them."

Chris nods, heading to the kitchen, where Lynn is banging her spoon on her highchair. She grins up at Chris and shimmers the spoon away.

"Mom, I owe you a _massive _apology," he mutters, orbing the spoon back.


	2. could've been

**Title**: could've been

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 65

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: the sisters, a world without magic

* * *

><p>There are no demons, there is less blood, no screaming in terror, and only fear of accidents but not truly of death.<p>

There is no orbing, no premonitions, no ghosts and not a single demon to be found.

There is no Power of Three, and no Heir of Magic, no time travel or end of the world, and Piper wonders if it was worth it.


	3. stained

**Title**: stained

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: unchanged future; AU

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 145

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Wyatt/Chris, the road to evil

* * *

><p>Whenever Chris looks at his hands, he still sees Mom's blood. He can't go to the Manor anymore. Magic School is a crater. Witches are in hiding, demons strutting in daylight, and Wyatt sits on his throne.<p>

No one else, Wyatt had said, will feel our pain.

He's wrong, though. Chris has tried telling him, but Wyatt won't listen.

Everyone is feeling their pain.

And Chris really _really_ wishes he could care. Mom would, he knows. And the aunts. And Paul, Patty, Penelope, Petey, and Mel. They would hate what Wyatt has done in their names.

But they're not here anymore, so they don't get a say.

He and Wyatt are all that's left. And even if Wyatt has taken everything they were ever taught and twisted it, Chris will stand beside his brother.

What's a little more blood on his hands, anyway?


	4. Broken

**Title**: Broken

**Disclaimer**: not my characters. just for fun.

**Warnings**: spoilers for season six; AUish

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 640

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

><p>This isn't his world. Everything's off. Nothing's right.<p>

Dad and Mom and the aunts, even Wyatt - everything's tinted a different color than he remembers. More vibrant, brighter: the sun and the moon and the sky, the smells and sounds...

Alive. That's the word he's looking for. After all the gray and the gloom, everything's _alive_.

And he just can't get used to it. He can't even really remember Aunt Phoebe from before, but he knows this woman isn't her. From what he recalls, she was all about the vanquishing, all about protecting the future and the children, not her love-life or that column she spends all her time writing.

And Aunt Paige - she was a warrior, back home. Bitter and angry, defiant to the end as the demons tore her apart. He was young when she died, very young, but still old enough to feel hate for her death, to plan vengeance. He watched her die, held in place by magic, unable to do a thing, for all his power. Unable to move or to fight, unable to save his family -

And Mom... _Mama_. The last to survive, she died in his arms. Died shivering and shuddering, begging forgiveness for leaving him alone. Died apologizing for the children she couldn't save, her sisters' girls. Died with his name on her lips, died sobbing, losing strength with her blood.

And he was left alone with his brother, the strongest being in all the worlds. He was left alone with nowhere to go, no way out, the only option to stand at his brother's side.

No… this world is not his. In this world, Wyatt is a baby, innocent of everything. In this world, Mom and the aunts are selfish, want lives away from demons and death, even though they are the only ones who can deal with it. In this world, Dad is trying his best to be with his family and the Elders, and in this world Chris can only blame himself for the state of things.

Everything is so vibrant, so beautiful. So innocent. Back home, he'd almost forgotten the meaning of the word, but here it screams. Shrieks. The aunts and Mom, despite everything they've gone through - they're still so _innocent_ and it's wrong. They should know better.

Hell, they _do_ know better, they just want to pretend. Want to fake. If they ignore it all, it'll go away.

He tried that himself, once. It didn't work. It didn't work so well, he almost threw himself at Wyatt's feet and begged for anything to do before he lost his mind.

Chris watches and can only shake his head. They're separating, going their own ways. They don't understand, they don't know, they can't see - they don't _want_ to see. He can't believe how selfish they are, this life; he can't remember his aunts or Mom ever being like this, back home.

But then… he'd been so young. So young. Just a baby, really. His memory is faulty and the memories flighty, and after Wyatt, he can't be sure of anything. He can't know what happened and what didn't, what was or wasn't there, and as much as Wyatt's to blame, he himself had a part to play.

He should have fought harder, longer, better. He should have seen Wyatt falling before Mom died in his arms, thinking she'd failed.

Wyatt is his _brother_. Looking at this world's Wyatt, Chris realizes he never really knew him. Never really had this innocent child, just the… shell. Just what was left after Evil got its claws on him and turned him, shattered him, _killed_ him.

And if for nothing else… if not for the aunts or Mom or Paula and Mel, if not for himself - then he'll succeed for Wyatt, for the little boy who never got a chance.


	5. notes from futures past

**Title**: notes from futures past

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: changed future

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 435

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Original Timeline Chris & New Chris, When Christopher Perry Halliwell was 11 he found the journal of Chris Perry. It had a note addressed to him on the first page.

* * *

><p>A notebook is hidden under the floorboards in Chris' closet. He finds the loose floorboard during a game of orb and seek with Wyatt and Mel, and leaves the notebook there until after supper, while Mel is doing girl things with Mom and Wyatt's trying to get out of cleaning the kitchen (his punishment for lying about hiding in places where Mel can't get to).<p>

The notebook is plain, just the everyday kind that can be bought anywhere. A piece of paper is taped onto the first page and the handwriting on both is familiar, like he should know it. Like maybe he did know it once, but has since forgotten.

_Chris_, the note says, _this is a warning. It could have been, and might still be, but I doubt it. Don't worry._

_But don't read this until after your fourteenth birthday. Trust me, Chris. I'm a you that might have been and if your fourteenth birthday passes with no problems... then I succeeded._

_You can't change anything, not yet. You don't have the power, and won't for awhile._

_So just be a kid. Hide this until you're fourteen and forget about it. And don't mention it to Mom or Dad._

_Trust me, Chris. And have faith in your brother._

The note was signed _Chris Perry_ in handwriting that Chris knew as his own.

He glanced at the date on the first entry: Oct 5, 03. Over a year before his birth.

Wyatt, he knew, would read the notebook despite the warning. And Mel would take it to Mom without reading.

Chris puts it back under the floorboard.

o0o

The day after he turns fourteen, while Mom and Dad are downstairs and the aunts are getting ready to go home with all his cousins and Wyatt's still sleeping and Mel is watching cartoons, Chris settles into bed with a journal written by his future self in the past.

The last entry is another note, and this one says,

_My Wyatt isn't yours. Yours is this little boy, playing with blocks a few feet away, and he's innocent and good. So if your fourteenth birthday was happy and nothing happened, don't look at Wyatt differently._

_He's my big brother. Our big brother, Chris. And despite everything, he did love me._

_I had a premonition the other night. Your parents will have another child, a daughter. Mine didn't._

_So I think I succeeded._

_Be happy with your family, Chris. Love them._

_Especially Wyatt._

Chris closes the notebook, hides it back beneath the floorboards, and goes to hug every member of his family.

Especially Wyatt.


	6. if you can't beat 'em

**Title**: if you can't beat 'em

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: unchanged future

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 125

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Wyatt/Chris, fix you

* * *

><p>If Wyatt is patient enough, his little brother will stand at his side and survey their kingdom and offer suggestions for improvement.<p>

If Wyatt is gentle enough, his little brother will forget everything that came before, the price of paradise, and those who dared to disobey.

_You'll come around_, he tells his little brother, with an encouraging smile.

Chris closes his eyes.

.

_You'll come around, Chris_, he says. _This is for your own good. If you were anyone else..._ He lets his voice trail off, eyes bright in the belief that he's right.

Chris doesn't answer, held fast by magic-proof chains, still sore from the fight when Wyatt dragged him back through time.

_You'll come around_, Wyatt says again. So sure.

Chris believes him.


	7. come what may

**Title**: come what may

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: unchanged future

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 60

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Chris and Wyatt Halliwell, brothers no matter what.

* * *

><p>"Why do you stay?" he asks, meaning <em>I know you hate it here, and I don't want you to go, but I'd forgive you.<em>

Chris shrugs, looking down, out over the city, the ruins and the bones of what was once their playground.

"You're my brother," he says, meaning _I'll never leave you, no matter what, because we're all that's left_.


	8. Defection

**Title**: Defection

**Disclaimer**: Not my characters. Just for fun.

**Warnings**: unchanged future

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 585

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

><p><em>Fare thee well, my love. <em>

_There is nowhere left to fall… _

_o0o_

They speak of him, even now. Even after… everything that happened. They murmur, believing their words are not heard, not recorded.

Every syllable is recorded, listened to. Every vowel, every consonant. Heard, mulled over, decided about. Every last one.

If they knew, they would fear. Might rebel, finally pushed over the edge. Might choose that they no longer wish to tremble beneath the weight of his anger.

So he listens, day after day, year after year. And he never makes the decision.

o0o

It is a painless existence. He survives moment to moment, away from memory, away from wonder—away from love. There are no emotions he allows himself, because to rejoice is to grieve. He cannot afford that.

He is the supreme being. His will is law. His every last whim is fulfilled before he finishes the thought. He commands instant obedience and believes that fear is better than respect.

Were his family alive, they would not recognize him. Of course, were his family alive—but he never completes that thought, for he has not the time to reminisce or regret.

o0o

It is only late at night, alone in a bed fit for the king, that he allows himself to recall their faces, their voices—that one touch. The one touch granted to him before—before…

—_before_—

o0o

It was quick. None of them saw it coming. Painless. Easy. And a thousand other words that bring the scantest of comfort.

No adjective can truly describe the way the Charmed Ones fell, one after another, heartbeats apart. None can paint an accurate picture of Phoebe's shallow gasp, of Paige's aborted cry, of Piper's eyes as she watched her baby sisters plunge to the floor. The betrayal, the accusation, the plea in her gaze as she stared at their killer.

The demons who witnessed the Charmed Ones' defeat lived only a moment after Piper breathed her last.

The Halliwell-Matthews children survived mere minutes before meeting their end.

All but one.

And no one speaks his name to his face. Not anymore.

o0o

He does not contemplate what he sacrificed that day. What he's done to himself and the world since then. He merely endures, one breath to the next, shoving all emotions away and continuing the day.

This is never what he imagined. He almost wishes he had someone—_someone_—beside him. Someone who knew, who loved—

—_who touched_—

o0o

And he is king. He was prophesized. Meant to be. Beloved, envied, feared—both sides were enraptured with him before he ever breathed.

Now both cower beneath his feet and beg him for mercy. Mortal, magical—demon, witch—child, adult—none matter. Mercy is an emotion and those are things he no longer has.

o0o

They speak of him, sheltered by the cloak of night. He hears them, but he does not let on. Refuses to cross that one final line and perhaps push them too far.

Demons cower and angels shudder; witches weep and mortals survive.

Everyone mourned the day the Halliwells died.

o0o

In light of day, as the sun touches the distant east and graces the world with warmth, for less than a heartbeat, he allows himself to feel that one touch. The soft brush of fingers across his face, the gentle, barely-there kiss of lips on his, and the voice whispered in his mind—

_—I forgive you, Wy— _

But only a moment. He cannot afford more than that.


	9. family

**Title**: family

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: changed future; fluff

**Pairings**: canon

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 175

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Piper, Chris, Wyatt, Phoebe, Paige & Pru (+ Phoebe and Paige's kids), The greatest Mother's Day gift they ever got from their kids was when they summoned Pru and she actually appeared.

* * *

><p>It occurred to Chris first, when he and Mom were flipping through old photographs, looking for a couple new ones to put on the walls.<p>

Patty overheard when he mentioned the idea to Wyatt, and then Paul barged in, deciding there needed to be a definite plan.

Penny got involved when she found the notebook, and then Mel demanded that she wanted a part to play, too.

Chris ended up writing the final spell, a twist on the usual summoning, but it was Wyatt's raw power that made it work.

And when Aunt Prue stepped out of the circle, smiling at her nieces and nephews, while her sisters still slept (they always came to the manor for Mother's Day), Chris knew they'd done a good thing.

"C'mon," Wyatt said, herding the kids downstairs. "Let's go start breakfast."

"Chris," Aunt Prue called, following them from the attic. "Thank you."

He threw a grin over his shoulder and said, "Go visit with your sisters."

None of the Charmed Ones came down for breakfast till lunchtime, but the kids didn't mind.


	10. flying

**Title**: flying

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: mentions of unchanged future

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 90

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Chris (gen), ever after

* * *

><p>In his dreams, he flies. High over the ocean, away from demons and magic and destiny. Away from a beloved smile turned to a hateful smirk, away from bloody hands and bruised skin, away from leading an army against the man he should've always stood beside, come what may.<p>

In his dreams, he flies. Sometimes in his dreams, his brother flies beside him, and they laugh.

And when he wakes to Mom calling him for breakfast, he doesn't remember the dreams or the life he escaped to have them.


	11. woulda, shoulda, coulda

**Title**: woulda, shoulda, coulda

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: unchanged future

**Pairings**: implied Wyatt/Chris

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 115

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Any, any pairing, _"Say the magic words and I'll destroy the world for you."_

* * *

><p>Chris almost gets away. Half a second quicker and he would've. Maybe he'd have even changed things, then. But this world and everything in it are Wyatt's, and he keeps what's his. Soon enough, Chris even forgets what the big deal was.<p>

He knows that what Wyatt's doing is wrong, he just doesn't remember why it matters, and when Wyatt unchains him and leads him into the sunlight, clearing away the smog and the smoke, he turns Chris to face him and promises, "If you need me to, I'll destroy the world and rebuild it however you like."

Chris doesn't know what he's done to deserve such devotion, but he'll make damn sure he's worthy.


	12. victory's wings

**Title**: victory's wings

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: future!fic

**Pairings**: canon het

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 140

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Leo/Piper, their first grandchild

* * *

><p>Her name is Melinda and she's born at sunrise. Wyatt is the first to hold her, and he hands her to her mother, a mortal who can barely understand the magnitude of the child in her arms, but already loves her more than anything. More than everything.<p>

Piper is crying, and Leo, and Phoebe and Paige, and everyone else. Magic hasn't stopped like it did for Melinda's father, but the birds are singing louder and the sun is shining brighter, and it's a beautiful day.

Piper cradles her granddaughter close and hums a lullaby her mother used to sing, and Leo kisses them both.

(Chris wonders, hugging Wyatt, if Mom is thinking of that lost daughter, in one what-if world, and decides it doesn't matter. This is now, and enough was sacrificed that he's sure his might-have-been sister understands.)


	13. Liar's Creed

**Title**: Liar's Creed

**Disclaimer**: Not my characters. My little poem thing. Just for fun.

**Warnings**: takes place during "Oh My Goddess" pt 1; spoilers for the Chris plotline

**Pairings**: either a smidge of Wyatt/Chris or just a very strong brotherly love

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 760

**Point** **of** **view**: first

* * *

><p><em>When tomorrow comes, the truth will set us free.<em>

_Except… _

_The truth lies dying._

* * *

><p>Liar. All you are, all you've become—maybe even all you've ever been, Wy—is a liar.<p>

When you told me you didn't know what killed Mom or the aunts or Mel or Paul, you were lying. When you told me you didn't know who was mobilizing the Underworld, you were lying. When you said Dad would be home soon, he just needed to finish with the Elders, you were lying.

When you told me you loved me, were you lying then, too?

.

It did hurt, you know. When you walked away. I felt like… like… you'd grabbed my heart and yanked it from my chest, then cut it into little pieces and spit on it.

You were the one who said we should stick together, that we **needed** to stick together. That together we were safe.

And then—you walked away. For your empire and your regime and your _perfect world_. Weren't **you** the one who told me perfection doesn't exist?

.

But you know what's worse? You know what hurt most of all? That when I walked away from you, that final time, to go to the past, to here, where **none of it's happened yet**—

You didn't come for me. You let me muck about in history—did you have such little faith in my abilities, in my temper, in my **will** that you thought I'd fail? That I'd give up and return?

**You left first**, Wyatt. You left and didn't look back for years. And then—then—you didn't ask me to join you. You demanded.

Have you ever wondered why I said yes?

Didn't think so. You just always assume that I'll pick you. You always have.

The fact that I always did doesn't really matter, does it? Because there's a first time for everything. There's a first time for everything, you **bastard**, and I couldn't escape the knowledge of what you'd become.

When you found me and offered your hand, I took it. I stood by your side and I killed with you, **for** you, all the time working to save **you**, Wyatt.

And you're a liar.

.

But I think I'm a liar, too.

.

You think I'll just forgive you? You think I'll come back, stay by your side, **happily**? You think I'll forget?

I can never forget.

I can never return.

But I think…. I think….

**Damn** you, Wyatt, I **can** forgive you.

.

You damned **liar**. **Damned** liar. Liar.

How—why—**when** did it all go wrong? We were raised as **champions of the light**, as the culmination of **good**, as the fucking **saviors**, you bastard. We were what witches have striven towards for millennia…

And you threw it all away. **You threw it all away**. You threw **me** away, and then you expected me to join you with a smile and kiss?

.

But there's something you've never understood about me, Wyatt. Something you've never really bothered to see.

I don't have your raw power. I don't have your rage. I don't have your bitterness.

I don't have the coldness you must to do what you've done.

What I have, Wyatt, what I have that I think you never will—

.

**Love**, brother. There are people, places, memories that I love. Not just you. You were never my entire world, even if I did choose you over everything.

But I am all you ever had. All you ever **let** yourself have.

And that's why—why—you walked away for yourself. You left to take control, to ascend, to attain whatever you'd convinced yourself you needed for completion.

You left for yourself.

Love is not selfish.

I left for you.

.

I left for **you**. To **save** you.

.

And I don't think we'll get a happy ending. Not this me and this you, Wyatt. But the little us's, the me not yet born and the innocent you I can hear crying while Phoebe stares at statue-Paige—

**They'll** get our ending. They'll live happy, long lives. They **all** will.

.

You don't have faith in me. You don't think I can do it.

I know I won't fail. I can't.

I can't forget.

I can't return.

I can forgive.

.

I cannot fail.

.

You're a liar, Wyatt. I've become one, too. I had to, for survival.

But this, brother—hear me through time, through our blood and our bond and our love and our magic—

**I will save you**. I refuse to fail.

* * *

><p><em>And Lie screams. <em>


	14. time's ending

**Title**: time's ending

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: unchanged future

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 200

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Piper, being pushed beyond the limits of her powers

* * *

><p>Her baby boy is dead. She knows—Daddy told her—that today is the day she died, in that horrific future Chris came from, but instead she's holding her baby boy as he bleeds out, and she's screaming for Leo, for Wyatt, for anyone at all who can heal, but no one comes.<p>

Is this what it was like for him, first time around?

She tries freezing him, tries to staunching the flow with towels and her shirt, and his eyes stay closed for longer and longer as he mutters something about _Mama_ and _cold_.

He dies in her arms and no one answers her calls and she can't—she can't live in a world without her baby boy, who already died once before.

She couldn't freeze him long enough to save his life. She couldn't freeze him at all because he's—he was her son, a witch, one of her own. Her baby boy.

So holding his body, covered in his blood, she screams and freezes the world. Let time end since no one came for him.

She's never experienced her own power before and she hopes it means she'll feel nothing.

(It does, and the tears freeze on her face.)


	15. The Right Thing

**Title**: The Right Thing

**Disclaimer**: I did not think up Chris, Wyatt, the Charmed Ones, or anything else to do with their world.

**Warnings**: Takes place during "It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad World pt2" and is an AU. As a result, spoilers for season 6 and everything to do with Chris.

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 210

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

><p>Everyone's alone in the end, even the hero, when it comes to that.<p>

He'd told them and told them, and they'd wearied of hearing, so while he's lying here, bleeding, he allows himself an _I told you so. _

_I told you so, I told you so, I told you so, so often you could have said it with me, and now it doesn't matter anymore, because it's here and it's real and it's not going away, it's not going anywhere— _

_This is the end of the world, the end of everything, and I can't move. _

Everyone's alone in the end. He's bleeding to death on the floor of the attic, the same day he's born, and he can feel the failure across time.

Gideon, trying to do the right thing… _God, I told you **all** so, and you didn't want to hear me, believe me, contemplate that I could possibly be right. _

Trying to do the right thing, the only thing… _Such power… _

Everyone's alone in the end. _Mom, Aunt Paige, Aunt Phoebe… Melly, Paul, Andrea… Dad… I told you all so, over and **over**, and you **never** heard me… _

Wyatt's gone, on the road of evil till Kingdom Come, and he's dying alone.

Trying to do the right thing…


	16. Caligula's Blood

**Title**: Caligula's Blood  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I did not think up Chris, Wyatt, the Charmed Ones, or anything else to do with their world.  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: spoilers for the entire Chris plotline. Seasons 7 and 8 are ignored; some implied dub-con, maybe; mentions of non-con  
><strong>Pairings<strong>: Wyatt/Chris

**Rating**: R  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 1150  
><strong>Point of view<strong>: second

* * *

><p>There's magic, like Disney godmother magic, and then there's <em>magic<em>—the magic of blood and bone and tears shed. There's gentle going to the ball and sleeping a hundred years—and there's world domination in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes you wonder which is yours, but then he turns to look at you with a smile and you know.

Often, you think of leaving and never looking back, of vanishing into the city and fighting for what you know is right. But you can't.

Because this is you, now, this is your blood doing this, and you've only ever belonged at his side.

o0o

Once, you dreamed of being the prince in the tale, instead of the bungling sidekick. You wanted to be the one Mom and Dad and the aunts spoke of with such reverence, such pride.

Once, he's all you ever wanted to be.

Once.

But now you look at him, the madness glinting in his eyes, held back only by you—and you wish you were anywhere else. Anyone else. Anything would be better than this.

o0o

He gestures; you step forward. All his guards leave—you are no danger. He smiles down at you, gently touches his finger to your lips.

You don't jerk back and you don't yell and you do everything silently. He says your name like a plea and you do anything he wants.

This is your power, now. No longer magic of your blood and family, no longer magic of any kind except what he grants you by his love, demented it may be.

o0o

You wait until he's gone to seriously ponder leaving. The moon is high in the sky and people scream in the street. Demons prowl and witches cower, and he rules with a smirk.

You look and look in him for the man you once knew, the boy you once loved, the child you used to want to be.

You look and look, but if he's there you can't find him.

o0o

Your mother died on your birthday, and her sisters with her. Your cousins survived for months after, though your uncles died later that week.

Your father vanished, abandoning you even after everything.

Your sister, your baby sister, is consort of the strongest demon, given by your brother for his loyalty.

You could kill him, that bastard who dares to touch her, but your brother won't allow it.

You often wonder if your brother died the same day as the Charmed Ones, or if he'd died long before.

o0o

There is magic, and there is _magic_. One is gentle and sweet and so, so soft, easily broken. The other is dangerous if wielded wrongly, or by the wrong person.

Your brother proves that every day.

He beckons you closer, with eyes full of love and desire. You look up at him and he asks you what you want—your birthday is next week, after all, and he's king of the world.

He will give you anything you ask for. The promise is in his eyes.

What you want is yesterday, back before all this, back when magic was soft and gentle and you didn't know the power of blood.

But that is the one thing you cannot request.

o0o

Your sister is consort to the strongest of demons. You see her infrequently, and she is broken when you do. No longer Piper's vibrant daughter, she is a shell, shattered by her brothers' betrayal and the touch of evil imprinted on her skin.

Your sister is consort of one born evil, one without a choice.

You are consort to the greatest evil the world has ever born, one who is evil by choice and declaration. And your sister was not given an option, but handed over as a prize.

You stay because you have nowhere else to go, and because you know nothing else, not anymore.

When you die, you are not going to heaven. If any heaven even exists by that time, because he could call down the stars.

o0o

He knows you do not love him the way he loves you. He knows you cannot love him, not after everything.

He tells you he's killed your father. You smile and kiss his lips.

You cannot love him. You cannot leave him.

You cannot save him.

You stand by his side as city after city, country after country, continent after continent—the world falls to him and bows at his feet. Human, demon, witch—none can strike back with any force, because he is the ultimate, the culmination, the strongest being ever born.

He is the Twice Blessed. He is the Heir of Magic. He is beyond all obstacles.

In your dreams, Melinda Warren whispers that you could defeat him. In your dreams, Pruey begs you to fight back and save her.

In your dreams, your mother smiles and kisses your forehead and says she loves you, no matter what.

Upon awakening, you stand beside him and watch the world burn.

o0o

Briefly you wonder about leaving and joining the Resistance, pitiful it may be. They haven't a chance, but they take pride in attempting the impossible, even if it will kill them all.

He traces your jaw and whispers in your ear and you do as he asks silently.

He says he loves you and you wonder if he even remembers what that means.

You do not love him and he knows it. Revels in it.

He keeps you by his side without even really trying, because there is nowhere else to be.

Pruey is broken and everyone else dead.

He is your blood, all that remains. And even though it means nothing to him…

To you, it is everything.

o0o

The meaning of magic is changed for you. This is not what Mom and the aunts taught, this shattered world.

You wear his kiss like a brand and the demons cower away from you. Your eyes burn with forbidden tears and your power flies with abandon whenever someone angers you.

You are not him, but now interchangeable, and he watches with a smile.

o0o

You are drenched in sweat and blood and come, the knife still tight in your grip.

There's magic and then there's _magic_—both are dead to you, and his eyes still stare, shock and love frozen in his final glare.

You trace his lips and know that at last—you are in your place.

After everything, you finally understand.

This is not what they taught you, but it is what you finally learned.

Power is in your blood. Pruey and Wyatt are both gone, beyond you, free of the world and pain.

Melinda Warren told you that you alone could defeat him. Your mother said she'd love you, no matter what.

Barbas whispered you'd forever be alone.

They're all right, in the end, and come morning you are king.


	17. never had

**Title**: never had

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: changed future

**Pairings**: Leo/Piper

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 120

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Piper/Leo, our little girl

* * *

><p>She never forgets her daughter. Even when her boys are grown and she's a grandmother, she still remembers that little girl's eyes and smile and voice. Every time she cooks her sons' favorite meals, she wonders what her daughter might have liked.<p>

She'd told Leo, of course. After they got back. But he didn't have any memories of that beautiful little girl. She didn't haunt him.

One son, then two, and never a daughter.

Her boys have children, and then she's a great-grandmother. Wyatt's first granddaughter has Melinda's smile and Melinda's eyes. She's crying as she holds the tiny girl and grins up at Leo.

"It's her," she murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Melinda's cheek.


	18. Expectations

**Title**: Expectations

**Disclaimer**: Not my characters. Just for fun.

**Warnings**: unchanged future; language

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 755

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

><p><em>Don't we deserve a happy ending? After everything? <em>

.

He expected too much and he knows it, now. Too late, of course.

It's not fair, brutally so, and there's nothing to be done. He can bitch and moan to stars forever and it won't to change a thing, can't—meant to be and all that shit.

'Meant to be,' the Elders would say, and fighting won't do any good, because fate and destiny can't be defeated.

He's where he was always going, even with all his expectations of something better, something more. Memories of a life he never lived kept him up at night and he could feel the dagger in his gut at random times. But even with the knowledge of another world in his head, he couldn't see a way out of this, an escape.

Meant to be, he supposes, and isn't that just fucking right?

.

After all the world had put them through, they deserved more. They'd earned it, paid for it with blood and sweat and tears. Paid for it with their lives, more than once, though they'd always found away back from death—except those four times.

They each earned a happy ending. But their life wasn't a Disney movie, a kid's version of the tale—they lived a Grimm story, and they got a Grimm ending.

The princess doesn't live happily ever after with her true love. Not originally. And evil doesn't care how good, how pure you are—it kills you all the same.

.

Prue, of course, died first. Then Phoebe, then Paige, and last was Piper. Three of them were childless, but Piper had two, both sons. They were young when the Charmed Ones died, very young. They could barely remember the strongest witches in the world. And the slight memories were not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Leo did his best, and Victor, too—but it didn't do any good.

Only their mother could have controlled them, but she was long dead and gone.

.

And this was always their destination, from Wyatt's first breath.

No sons for the Warrens. No boys to fuck up the bloodline and fall from the path of the light.

Clearly, fate knew what it was doing all those years of only daughters born. Too bad—for everyone—that it allowed Wyatt into the world.

.

Maybe Grams had the right of it when she told the Charmed Ones that men should not have magic, that men were flawed and flighty, that men fell too easily.

Or perhaps, the old proverb merely proved true: Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Either way, clearly something was wrong. Horribly, terribly, no way out _wrong_.

.

And he can beg the stars for the old days he barely remembers but it won't do a bit of good. Nothing will change.

He has all the power in the world, and his brother still more, but it doesn't matter because some things are fucking _meant to be_ and this, for some unfathomable reason, is one of them.

It doesn't make sense, any of it. So little ever makes sense. And Wyatt's lost his mind, decided the world should burn for his pleasure, and he can't do a thing about it.

To his own shame, he knows he wouldn't if he could.

.

Because this is always where he was going. The invisible knife is in his gut, sharp and cold and unforgiving. He can see a childhood he never had; the little boy he never was is laughing at him.

Boys should not be born to the Warren line but, they were. _They were_. And everything is paying the price.

.

Wyatt watches the world from his high-rise, beyond the populace. They are not living beings in his eyes, only toys to be played with at his leisure.

And in turn, Chris watches him.

.

The Charmed Ones deserved more. Wyatt has chosen to take it.

And there will be no happy ending, _can't_ be. Not with the world like it is, and it won't become another way any time soon.

Chris always expected too much. He knows that now.

Watching Wyatt watch the world, he also knows that if he had to choose between his brother and everything else—which is the choice offered him—he would let the world burn.

He would watch the world and all her children burn to ash before he stood against Wyatt.

Chris steps up to the window beside his brother and wonders if there was ever another way.


	19. the gift of lying

**Title**: the gift of lying

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: changed future

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 230

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Chris, a spell that he can do better than Wyatt.

* * *

><p>Wyatt is a terrible liar. He always has been. If Dad and the aunts hadn't been in shock after Mom's death, they would have seen what Chris saw because Wyatt wasn't trying to hide it. He didn't know how, and he didn't think he had to.<p>

He is, after all, the Twice-Blessed Heir of Magic. The best and the greatest, more powerful than the Source. More powerful than the Charmed Ones.

And he can't lie for shit. Not when he was evil, and not now that he's good. Chris has two lifetimes of memories playing in his head, and in both worlds, some things are the same: Chris is Wyatt's favorite and Wyatt can't lie.

Chris spent months in the past and it was only a vision quest that finally gave him away. Wyatt wasn't even there for five minutes before he let something slip.

In all honesty, Chris still has trouble believing Wyatt went evil. Of the two of them, it should have been him, the secretive and jealous little brother. Dad wouldn't've been caught off-guard then. That, he and the aunts might have seen coming.

But no. It was Wyatt, the great and powerful Wyatt, who brought dragons to life and couldn't lie in the least.

And maybe he shouldn't be proud of it, but lying is the one thing he's always been better at than Wyatt.


	20. Destined

**Title**: Destined

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: unchanged future; AU

**Pairings**: all canon at one point

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 810

**Point** **of** **view**: first

* * *

><p>This is always where we were going, and there was never any escape.<p>

For centuries our family fought evil, and only a rare few ever turned. The odd spell here and there turned some for a while, but they always found a way out.

And then the first boy born to the bloodline in a thousand years—an anomaly. Something that would not be replicated.

Wyatt Halliwell, the most powerful being of all time, of all the worlds. Son of a Whitelighter and a Charmed One. Twice Blessed Heir of Magic. Culmination of all that was good and right in the world. Anomaly.

The Elders and the magical community were sure there wouldn't be another boy born to a Warren daughter. There could not be. Wyatt was special; he'd been prophesized for millennia, if one knew where to look.

But then Christopher came to be, strange and secretive Chris, who loved only his brother and mother and me. He was not Twice Blessed, though Leo had become an Elder. He was completely unexpected, an unknown. Not even two years after Wyatt and _another_ boy for the Halliwells?

Balanced on a knife, the world began to tremble because everything was wrong.

They were the only sons, my brothers. Aunt Paige had two daughters and Aunt Phoebe three. Paige married a mortal and Phoebe the ex-Source, once he'd resurrected again. Neither lived long: Paige died when Megan was three and Phoebe when Patty turned four.

So Mama raised us all, the next generation of good. Wyatt was the oldest and I the youngest. Wyatt, Chris, Prudence, Penelope, Megan, Patricia, Talia, and I—Melinda.

Dad helped when he could, but he had the Elders to deal with. I understood but Wyatt felt abandoned. Prue, Penny, and Patty began rebelling the earliest, unable to cope with their dual natures. Prue lashed out at the demons, going on ever more dangerous missions. Mom did the best she could and Wyatt tried to rein Prue in—but she died at fifteen and Penny soon followed. Patty lasted until she was twenty, but cousins could never equal sisters and she succumbed to grief.

Megan died when a truck hit her car at sixteen. She never saw it coming and had no chance to orb. Talia lasted the longest, till just after Wyatt claimed the world. She could not deal with such a coup and fought against us.

I know that my brothers are wrong, that nothing is as it should be. I know that my soul is probably damned and my mother winces with shame in the afterlife. I also know this is always where we were going, and we never could have avoided it.

If Mama still lived, Chris would never have followed Wyatt. If Mama still lived, Wyatt would never have fallen.

Mama bore the two strongest witches of all time, sons of a Whitelighter and an Elder. And I, daughter of a mortal, testament of a week-long retirement before Dad went back to the clouds. Mama did the best she could, and no one could have done better.

Sometimes, I dream of those days before this world. When I and my cousins played together, when my brothers watched over us. Now we three are all that is left, powerful remnants of a family gone. And our names are cursed instead of revered.

Wyatt rules, King of the Darkness, Emperor of the World, Twice Blessed Heir of Magic. And Chris stands beside him, the only of us not foretold. The citizens whisper that Wyatt is the most powerful being, but we three know the truth.

If Chris did not love us, he could destroy us and take it all.

Eventually, the Darkness is stronger than the Light. And our family always walked the edge. We have no explanation and we utter no excuses. This is easier than the constant fight.

Wyatt was prophesized. And I am meant to be. But Chris…

He was not mentioned anywhere, even though all our cousins were. Wyatt tells him it means nothing, that something was overlooked. But Chris and I know.

I see no way out of this perversion. Wyatt cannot see what he has become. And Chris can only see what hurt, before; he's lost sight of the pleasure, of the fun we had bathed in Light. I wish I could help them. I wish I could save them.

I wish for my childhood back.

Prue and Penny and Megan and Patty and Talia—I am glad you are beyond this pain. Dad, forgive me for my weakness. Aunt Paige and Uncle Henry, Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Cole—I miss you. Mama…

Mama…

Forgive me for letting them fall. Forgive me for falling with them. Forgive me for not seeing a way out of this.

Mama, forgive me for giving up. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself.


	21. Meant to Be

**Title**: Meant to Be

**Disclaimer**: Not my characters. Just for fun.

**Warnings**: AU for everything; a dose of crossover with "Supernatural"; some more AU; there are a few original characters running around, but don't mind them

**Pairings**: Wyatt/Chris; Dean/Sam; and a few het pairings, as well

**Rating**: R

**Wordcount**: 2020

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: This was inspired by more than just my demented mind: "Tell Me, Brother, When Is Before?" by Devilaire Mshadi; "Dream Done Green" from The Night Fantastic; and my love of _The Boondock Saints_

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>

The dagger slid into Phoebe like butter, slicing through skin, fat, muscle, and finally bone. He paused as he felt the blade slide through a rib and pulled it back out with a—were he anyone else—sickening slurp.

"Dear Phoebe, you fool," he purred, leaning in close and whispering in her ear. "You made a mistake with me. You all did."

She collapsed, body unable to cope with the pain, passing out before she hit the floor. He smiled down at her. She'd bleed out before the whitelighter—or was he an Elder now? Maybe even a mortal or Avatar. So hard to keep up with these things—could get to her.

"Goodbye, weakest of the Sisters," he told her, blowing a kiss before walking out of the room.

**II **

He didn't stay to watch, but he heard that Prue was the one to find her. He felt the city foundations shake at her pain and fury, which spoke of vast amounts of power. It was written off as a 5.4 on the Richter.

Prue lashed out at the demon community, going on a—_forgive me_—witch-hunt. She vanquished thousands and her strength grew with each.

But Piper was the one the Underworld feared. She pulled into herself, locked down, and froze. No emotion, no words, just… ice cold, like the Artic tundra. But Prue and Leo knew one day she'd thaw and Vesuvius would have nothing on her.

And then the fourth sister was found. He dealt with her, of course. Same fate, except the cut was on the left instead of the right.

Leo asked the Elders; Prue interrogated demons. Leo revealed Magic School and made use of their archives—finally, three years to the day of Phoebe's death, two years and five months to Paige's, he found it.

Prue sat beside Piper—who hadn't spoken since Prue called her and sobbingly begged her to come home—arms around her shoulders, and they listened to Leo.

"The cuts-the way—" he stopped, licked his lips, began again, slipping into whitelighter mode for the first time since Phoebe's death. "In ancient times, there were legends, myths, prophecies. Seers and fortune-tellers spoke of a _broken triumvirate_, of_ two who were three. _After—"he cut himself off; they didn't speak of Phoebe. "The Elders thought it might be you, but then—" he stopped himself again. They didn't speak of Paige, either. "This duo is supposed to be the best of the best, the perfect team. They aren't for either side; they care only for each other."

"And the way—" Prue started to ask, then paused, arms tightening around Piper. "What does that have to do with this _two who were three_?"

"The cuts," Leo explained, gesturing wildly. "They were exactly the same, perfect copies. And—" he orbed in a book and flipped to a marked page, "here," he said, stabbing a finger at a passage, "it says the mark." He walked over, handed the text to Prue.

She glanced at the words then looked back up. "A sacrifice? So that duo can come into its power?" Leo nodded, unable to meet her eyes. She finished the passage quickly, flipped the page and froze at the illustration. "Leo," she whispered, looking up, horrified.

Piper grabbed the book from her, stared at the etching. "When was this drawn?" Piper's voice lashed out, harsh and hoarse.

"Over three thousand years ago," Leo answered softly.

Piper raised her head, eyes boring into him. "I don't care if these _two who were three_ are the strongest force of Light in history," she said, voice colder than an iceberg, surer than a thunderstorm. "They stole my sisters. I am going to end them.

Prue and Leo shared a glance. Prue nodded. "Yes, Piper," she responded, pulling her only sister into a hug. "We deserve to have our vengeance."

"I cannot condone this," Leo said, walking forward and sliding down next to Piper, also wrapping his arms around her. "But I'll help all the same."

**III**

If he had been anyone else, he might have felt fear. Instead he lightly slapped the back of his brother's head.

"I told you to incinerate that text, Wy," he said, quickly dodging out of reach.

Wyatt followed and lunged for him; they grappled for the better part of five minutes, Wyatt finally winning due to his extra three inches and twenty pounds.

"Cheater," Chris grumbled, brushing off his shirt.

"Blame our parents," Wyatt shot back.

They shared a grin and returned to their posts just inside the doors of Magic School's library. Gideon—bastard—would be entering soon.

Even though there wasn't a Chris to kill in this reality—things had been fucked-up so beautifully there wouldn't be a Wyatt, either—neither of them could forgive the Elder for the younger's death.

They tortured every Gideon they came across. It was fun hopping realities.

(Sometimes Chris thought of telling Wyatt how insane their lives were, but they were together. They were healthy. After a fashion, they were happy. Wasn't that all that mattered?)

"So," Chris began, "why exactly did we hang around after killing Phoebe?"

Wyatt shot him a smirk then held a finger to his lips. Chris nodded, hearing Gideon whistling as he walked to the library.

As one they moved, each grabbing an arm. Chris said, "Silence," stealing Gideon's voice and gestured to the doors, shutting and locking them.

"Because," Wyatt said, answering his question, "I wanted to see if this world would be the same."

Gideon died from the same wound that killed their aunts, just after some extraneous torture they hadn't faced.

**IV**

If the original Charmed Ones—Prue, Piper, Phoebe—had known what their blood would birth, none of them would ever have had sex.

See, in the very first timeline Prue didn't die. None of them did. She married a nice male witch, had two kids, died at thirty-six in a demon attack. Rob, her husband, died avenging her, his premonitions not much help at all.

Penny, her daughter, died of old age at ninety-two. Vic, her son, died in a shootout with the cops. He let them kill him, consumed by grief at his parent's death; it had driven him mad.

Piper, unable to handle Prue's killing, had cast a spell she thought didn't work. It did, however—just took far longer than she had anticipated.

In the second time around, Piper died. Prue's grief and rage consumed her; she found a way into the Underworld and her powers quickly tripled in strength, fed by her emotions. She took out every demon between her and the Source, then him as well, leaving a void filled by her. She became the ultimate evil—a twisted force of good.

In this world, Phoebe cast the spell, sending everything back the way it was. And she died, in a car wreck at seventeen.

That reality, the others never got their powers, just lived out normal lives. And on her deathbed, Grams cast the spell, knowing it wasn't the way it should be.

One after the other, over and over—finally, in the twenty-seventh, Wyatt was born. And fifteen new worlds followed, each more fucked-up than the last—until Chris came to be. And weeks after his birth, Phoebe conceived a son, named Victor Cole. Perhaps a mistake, but no one ever knew: he died in a demon attack at age seven.

And seventeen more worlds followed, first Phoebe, then Wyatt, then Chris, searching for Vic but he was never found again.

That was when the _broken triumvirate_ and the _two who were three_ rumors began to be whispered.

Phoebe had other children in other worlds, and so did Paige or Prue. Piper, too, but Wyatt and Chris were always there, no matter what else varied.

And the walls, the threads, began to fall, to unravel; memories invaded their dreams, lives they had never lived, not really, but couldn't escape.

Finally Wyatt and Chris and their cousins—Paul, Mel, Prue, Pete, Vic(not the Vic from their dreams, but close)—and Mom and Dad and Aunts Phoebe and Paige and Uncle Kyle had the life they'd searched for over a thousand lifetimes

And Fate, the malicious bitch, snatched it away, at Chris' fourteenth birthday party. Tore Mom from life, took her quickly, too fast even for Wyatt to react. And Phoebe and Paige, days later, while they were still reeling. Leo vanished a week after Piper died; his dismembered corpse was found half a month later.

Wyatt did his best, but even if he was the Twice Blessed Heir of Magic, he was also a sixteen-year-old boy. Uncle Kyle was swallowed by his own grief, blinded to his son and daughter, and ate a bullet not six weeks after Paige died.

Paul and Prue didn't know where to turn. At ten and eight, they searched for something to hold on to. Chris tried to keep everything together, while Wyatt worried about protection, but on Chris' fifteenth birthday, Paul and Pete determined they'd make their moms proud. Paul orbed them to the Underworld and they took out a nest before they died.

That night—all five of them had felt the deaths—four year old Vic and seven year old Mel crawled into Chris' bed, sobbing and trembling.

"When will it be okay?" Mel asked, choking on the plea, wanting only to feel safe again.

"Wy's working on that," Chris answered, pulling them close.

Three more worlds later and Wyatt was the Source, everyone but Chris was dead, and Chris led the Resistance.

As he died the same day he was born, Chris knew from his dreams that Wyatt was still working on it.

**V**

It can only be so many lives before the timeline unravels. Bits and pieces showed up at night, woven into their dreams. Because Wyatt and Chris were the most powerful, theirs were the clearest

At fourteen, three weeks after his mother's death—again—Chris slipped into bed with Wyatt.

"Everything will be okay," Wyatt whispered, sitting up and looking at Chris, stretched out beside him in boxers and no shirt. 'This life, I swear."

"So why didn't you save her?" Chris asked.

Wyatt leaned down, caressed Chris' face. "Sometimes, there must be sacrifices." He kissed his little brother—the first time this life, but not the first ever, and certainly not the last.

**VI **

And finally the walls came tumbling down. Before his tenth birthday, Wyatt remembered every life he'd lived. He knew every spell, every power, every nuance. He could have taken the world before he hit puberty.

Omniscience wasn't a power he should have had. No one should know everything. And all that knowledge drove him completely mad.

Chris lasted a little longer—all the way till he was twelve. As the knowledge beat at him, he sought out his brother. "Make it stop," he gasped, falling to his knees before Wyatt; Wyatt knelt beside him, pulled him into his arms, and pressed their lips together. The world went away and they both knew they were home.

It could be said that was the beginning, but it honestly wasn't—the true beginning of Wyatt and Chris was when a prophet told of the Two Who Were Three eons before.

**VII**

They realized, a few years later, lying in bed together, that their world was boring. So they decided to travel.

"Through time?" Chris asked blankly. "We can do that? Without affecting us?"

"No," Wyatt said, waving his hand. "We'll affect ourselves, but it won't be _us_."

"Hmm." Chris rolled his eyes. "Way to clear that up."

Wyatt chuckled. "C'mon, it'll be fun. Just trust me."

So Wyatt searched the world, trying to find a way to flit through time, to fuck everything up without changing _them_.

He finally found an old man who might hold the answer, but Sam refused to talk to him.

"I'll speak to the younger," he said, and said nothing more to Wyatt.

Chris sat across from Sam in his ramshackle house and told him, "Anything you say to me, Wyatt'll hear. You know that, right?"

"Do you love your brother?" Sam asked, green eyes piercing Chris to the core.

"With everything in me," Chris answered, without a second thought.

"Would you do anything for him? Damn the world if it kept him safe?"

Chris got the feeling Sam was reading his soul. "Yes."

Sam nodded. "I'll give you the information you need if you deliver a message for me."

Sam gave him a book, the one copy left in the world, and a thick, well-worn envelope. "You can read the letter if you want," Sam told them, eyes alive for the first time, Chris was sure, in years. "Won't make much sense, though."

Wyatt followed his eyes to a portrait above the useless fireplace: a vibrant figure in a black coat stood in front of an old car. Not much detail could be seen, but even through the dust and years, Wyatt could tell the man had been beautiful. "Even if he never got the letter," Wyatt said, "he knew."

Sam graced him with a smile and shut the door.

**VIII**

They needed to be stopped and Wyatt knew it. They had become what their family fought.

(They delivered the letter, dropping it onto Dean while he slept. Sam—years younger—slept in the bed across the room. They didn't stay to see the reactions, but before they left that reality—after killing Gideon and Leo—they checked in. Dean and Sam were wrapped around each other, passed out naked, so they assumed the contents of that envelope were good.)

Somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong. And with all his knowledge, Wyatt could pinpoint it.

Victor Halliwell, the third male ever born to the Warren line, was needed. Together—two brothers and a cousin—they were greater than the Charmed Ones, the end of the world—they eradicated evil, ended corruption of the Light, ushered in Paradise.

Wyatt Matthew, Christopher Pericles, Victor Cole—too good together, too pure. So one had to die, had to be erased, before he became too powerful.

Wyatt and Chris were born too powerful, but Vic would come into his power on his thirteenth birthday. So the Elders and the Avatars and the demons worked together to make certain it would never happen.

And, frankly, after they realized that, Chris and Wyatt were a mite pissed off. They spent three worlds getting their vengeance and then another ninety-five searching for Vic, looking for their missing piece. They never found him; he existed only in that one timeline. He'd never be reborn, not the one they needed.

So they went on a rampage. They didn't really need a reason—they were completely insane, and that was explanation enough. But if they wanted to explain, Wyatt would say it was an experiment: kill one of the Sisters—not Piper, though. Incest was one thing, matricide another; but patricide was fine. They'd never liked Leo anyway—and see how the others reacted. They used a different way every time.

But Wyatt was growing weary. He wasn't keeping count, but it had been over three thousand worlds. He should be dead by now. He couldn't tell Chris, though. So Wyatt deliberately used the sign of the Two Who Were Three—yet another prophecy about him—and purposefully left that book where Leo would find it.

**IX**

They left Gideon in the library. Wyatt knew Leo would find him, would connect him to Phoebe and Paige. Piper would create a potion, would boost it with something—blood of Death, tear of Innocence, skin of Angel—and finally it would all be over.

As the Twice Blessed Heir of Magic, he knew it. Only three souls ever conceived had the strength to end him: his mother, his brother, his cousin. And, though Chris would convince him otherwise if he spoke of it, he needed to be destroyed.

Honestly—they should have died with Vic a billion lifetimes ago.

**X**

Piper summoned the Angel of Death and asked icily for blood. She pinched a toddler, collecting a vial of tears. She sliced some flesh off of Leo's arm, while he winced and didn't watch.

Mix in a little of this, a dash of that, stir—bring to a boil, simmer for seven minutes, and you have the potion to kill those who should never have been born.

Piper didn't know who they were, didn't care. They'd killed her baby sisters.

Leo orbed her and Prue to their lair—an upscale apartment she'd never be able to afford this lifetime. She wandered through, bottle clutched in her hand. Prue took the front, she the back.

In the master bedroom she found them, the Two Who Were Three. Two young men, early twenties, gorgeous and radiating power even in sleep, twined about each other.

The larger raised his head from the pillow and his eyes caught her, pulled her in. "End it," he said softly, pleading, "End it before he wakes."

Phoebe flashed through her mind, five year old Phoebe asking where the baby bird's momma was, why she didn't come back. Righteous fury filled her, suffused every particle—and relief softened his face as he sank back onto the bed and she threw the potion.

**Fin**

Unfortunately for Wyatt, some things are meant to be. And the dagger sliced through Phoebe like a knife through softened butter, while knowledge sang in his blood.


	22. yes, you were brave

Title: yes, you were brave

Disclaimer: title from Animorphs

Warnings: mentions of violence

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 140

Point of view: third

Prompt: Charmed, Chris, what if he fails in his mission.

* * *

><p>He dreams in shades of red, blood on his hands and in his eyes, blood burbling in his mouth, dribbling down <em>drip drip<em> to the floor, where it sizzles and burns.

He dreams of happy times, of laughing and smiling, of his brother (dead, never was, gone) spinning him around with his hands and his magic, of their baby sister and their cousins, of their parents and aunts and uncles, of Grandpa - dead, never was, gone.

He dreams of the future, after he's won, when the world is healing and his brother (everything, I miss you, I love you even now) saved, when he has a life and a family again.

He dreams in snatches, never for long, never enough.

He's dreaming as he's dying, and he wonders if the brother he once knew will meet him on the other side.


	23. what comes after

Title: what comes after

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: changed future

Pairings: Chris/Bianca

Rating: G

Wordcount: 390

Point of view: third

Prompt: Charmed, Chris/Bianca, their first meeting in the changed future.

* * *

><p>When Bianca is six years old, her life changes: Mama no longer takes bounties. When Bianca asks her why, Mama just smiles at her and says, "I'm tired of killing, sweetie."<p>

.

They find a permanent home. Mama sends her to Knox Academy instead of hiding and teaching everything herself. Bianca makes friends quickly because she doesn't have to lie anymore.

"Are you happy?" Mama asks her every few weeks.

Bianca always says, "Yes, Mama," because she is.

.

She grows up and decides to become a social worker because she wants to help people and magic is good for lots of things, but sometimes it doesn't work the way it should. She goes to a non-magical university and makes more friends and every day, Mom scries her to ask, "Are you happy?"

She always is, even on bad days.

.

When Bianca is 26, on the way to her first trial, she sees a Charmed One's son coming out of a bookstore. The Charmed Ones and their families had been well covered in History of Magic.

He sees her, too, and he smiles.

.

Three days later, she returns to that bookstore just because. He's sitting at the café, drinking coffee and reading the Harry Potter sequel, and she can't help herself.

"Really?" she asks. "How's Hogwarts compare to your school?"

He looks up at her, laughing, and stands. "Chris," he says. "Chris Halliwell."

"Bianca Reynolds," she replies.

.

Chris is currently attending a non-magical college because he wants a life outside of magic. His older brother, he complains, constantly gives him a hard time about it, and Bianca gives him some advice on how to cope. He doesn't know what, exactly, he'll do –

He eventually settles on social work and Bianca can't stop smiling for days.

.

When she meets the Charmed Ones for the first time, still as Chris' friend, they all look at her oddly for a little while. She ignores them, instead following Chris as he gives her a tour of the famous Manor.

Wyatt doesn't trust her because she's a phoenix; Melinda thinks she's cool for the same reason. The various and sundry cousins fall somewhere on the scale, but the only person who matters is Chris.

.

She kisses him at his graduation.

"It feels like I've known you forever," he murmurs, holding her close.

She smiles. "Maybe you have."


End file.
